


Fever

by Zhampy



Series: Saiibo Sickfic [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Fluff, M/M, a sick shuichi, nurse kiibo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 00:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12642630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhampy/pseuds/Zhampy
Summary: 'Kaede put a hand to her mouth, speaking quietly as if they could still be heard through the walls. “I didn't know it was Kiibo who's looking after him. I thought it was Kaito!”'A sequel to 'Overheat'.





	Fever

**Author's Note:**

> More Saiibo! A continuation of 'Overheat' but this time it's Shuichi who is sick!

 

It had become tradition for the group to all gather in the dining hall for breakfast, and as usual they had formed their own cliques as they discussed their plans for the day. Shuichi himself usually sat with Kaede, Kaito and Maki, but this morning he was having trouble paying proper attention to the conversation. He could barely hear them over the clutter of voices in the background. He wiped a thin sheer of sweat off his forehead.

Had Miu and Kokichi always been this obnoxiously loud? He was watching Kaede's lips move as she spoke animatedly about something, but all he could hear was that pair's overbearing screeching in the background. More sweat was beginning to drip from his forehead into his porridge, but he couldn't muster the energy to do anything about it. There was a sharp pain in the side of his head, almost like someone was repeatedly stabbing an icepick into his ear.

Something was building inside. Something unpleasant. He sat up straight now and took a few huge gulps of air. He didn't notice his friends now looking at him with worry, didn't hear their voices. A bubble caught in his throat, his whole body shivered.

Shuichi turned to the person sat next to him. “Kaito, I—bluuughh!”

The last thing he heard was a scream and a chair screeching across the floor.

He later woke up to a cold dark room. It was quiet and he blearily tried to look around. It was probably his room. And he felt very cold. He groaned as his hands groped around uselessly trying to find the bed quilt. Then a pair of dimly lit eyes entered his peripheral vision. He held his breath as a figure shadowed by the darkness of the room reached over him and pulled the quilt up. Even though his eyes were wide open his vision had narrowed to little more than a pinprick; he stared at the figure until everything went black again.

Kiibo frowned. That was the third time already that night that Shuichi had thrown off the covers and then regretted it shortly after. He was sat by the bed with his eyes lit, but only on the lowest setting so that he could still see but not disturb Shuichi.

The detective had a pretty fierce fever. He had to make sure that Shuichi didn't overheat or over-correct when the chills hit. To test his temperature he put his cheek on Shuichi's forehead; he was still very hot, not surprisingly. As he was this close he could feel the laboured breathes against his face. Normally listening to human breathing was quite relaxing. Such an important function that humans automatically preformed for survival, and yet something they paid barely any attention to. This kind of breathing was quite disturbing instead.

He moved his head down to listen to Shuichi's heartbeat. Even through a shirt and the quilt he could hear the fast, panicked pace, as if his heart was rattling around trying to jump out of his chest. Like that thing in that one movie he'd watched with Rantaro and Kaito. That would be horrible!

Some hours passed with Shuichi regularly pushing off the covers and groaning uncomfortably. Kiibo hoped he would wake up soon as he probably needed to rehydrate; he was sweating an awful lot after all, even when he was replacing a cool, damp cloth on the detective's forehead often. He felt particularly powerless in these moments. This was Shuichi's battle, all he could do was watch and make sure he didn't roll off the bed or vomit on the floor or something. Maybe he was being a bit dramatic, but he greatly disliked his friends' suffering, and humans were quite fragile. They couldn't just be turned off, fixed and turned back on again, and they couldn't be transferred to a different body if their original was beyond repair.

Thinking about it like that made him feel more determined to take good care of Shuichi, and just as that thought was passing through his mind the detective stirred.

Shuichi turned to face him with unfocused eyes. “Heyyy, who's that?”

“It's Kiibo,” he replied quietly.

“Kiiiiibo.” Shuichi said his name like he was tasting it. “Did the doctor send you?”

“Ummm, no.”

“You're really cute,” Shuichi slurred.

“Uh!?” His face flushed red to rival Shuichi's own fever-suffering face.

“Let me see… your eyes. Come closer,” Shuichi pawed at the air, squirming around.

“P-please don't move around so much.” He was worried Shuichi might struggle too much and fall out of bed. He wasn't really strong enough to lift Shuichi; it would be difficult to get him back into bed again.

“Let me see...” Shuichi said again.

Thinking about it for a moment Kiibo decided to squat down by the bed. He put his head low but didn't look directly at Shuichi as he didn't want to blind him. Shuichi stared at him with fuzzy eyes, gingerly raising a hand.

“So pretty,” he whispered with awe. And then jabbed him in a glass eye.

“Ah!” Kiibo leaned back. “Don't smudge my eyes!” he said louder than he'd meant to. Now he had a blurry fingerprint in the middle of his vision.

Shuichi looked shocked, like a child just scolded by their parent. Kiibo instantly felt terrible.

“Here, please try to drink some of this,” he passed over a glass with a shallow amount of water. Instead of accepting the glass, Shuichi grabbed his hand instead. “Wah!” He had to fumble with his other hand to catch the glass before it spilt over the bed.

Shuichi fell back against the pillow, taking Kiibo along with him. He only had a timid hold of his hand, but Kiibo didn't want to disturb him. Shuichi sighed, his forehead wrinkled with discomfort.

“You'd feel better if you drank this,” Kiibo tried to entice him with the glass, but he was ignored. He grunted and accepted his fate.

Undeniably it was nice to hold hands with Shuichi, though he would admit this wasn't exactly his dream scenario. Ideally Shuichi would be a bit more cognizant and he himself wouldn't have obscured vision like someone had smeared Vaseline on his eyes. Shuichi would smile at him and say nice things. Maybe they'd hold _both_ hands! Maybe... in his non-existent dreams...

Soon the grip on his hand loosened and Shuichi passed out. He took his hand back and stared at it for a long time.

Later, as he was changing the damp cloth, Shuichi stirred again. The detective's forehead crinkled and his brows furrowed before his eyes cracked open. A tired groan escaped him which prompted Kiibo into action. He scooted closer to the bedside.

“Shuichi. Shuichi, are you awake?” he spoke softly.

With a heavy sigh Shuichi tilted his head slightly and twitched when he saw Kiibo looking over him. “… thirsty,” he croaked.

“Oh, of course!” Kiibo moved a bowl of water he'd been warming in his lap to the floor and carefully passed over the glass of water from the bedside. But Shuichi seemed to be having trouble drinking so Kiibo propped him up and held the bottom of the glass, though his hands were warm so he hoped Shuichi would finish before the water turned.

Not that he had much to worry about as Shuichi gulped the water down very quickly. When done he leaned his head back and, with closed eyes, sighed. “What time is it?”

“It's exactly 7:08am,” Kiibo replied instantly.

Shuichi frowned. “Wednesday?”

“Thursday.”

Shuuichi groaned again, this time probably from annoyance. He had been, what Kiibo perceived as, virtually unconscious for nearly 24 hours. “What happened?”

“At breakfast you vomited on Kaito—”

“Oh god,” Shuichi cut in.

“—and passed out. You've been in bed since then with a severe fever.” Looking off to the side Kiibo neglected to mention the feverish babbling.

In response Shuichi's eyes darted left and right uncomfortably fast. “… why are you here?”

Kiibo puffed out his chest. “I've been caring for you of course!”

“Uhh-um? You?” Shuichi rubbed his tired face. Really, he would've expected Kaede or Kaito to help, not Kiibo. What… exactly had Kiibo seen throughout the night? Was it better or worse to be this sick in front of a robot? A robot he had a crush on. Oh, God. He coughed,” w-well, thank you. I hope… it hasn't been t-too much hassle.”

“It's no hassle. I like caring for you because I like you!”

Said with such sincerity and confidence. “Ohhhh, my god,” Shuichi blushed fiercely and moved to drop his face into his hands.

However Kiibo moved faster. “Oh, no! Shuichi, has your fever returned!?”

And he pressed his cheek to Shuichi's forehead.

Oh. This must be how a computer feels when it crashes to a bluescreen. Unblinking, his body frozen, a heat unrelated to his fever rose up over his face reaching the tips of his ears. Kiibo's face was cool, firm and smooth. Cool enough to feel relaxing on his heated forehead. Under different circumstances it might be nice. From this close he could see those dark lines falling down his cheeks were slightly indented into his synthetic skin. He felt almost hypnotised, but then...

A sharp intake of breath. He shoved Kiibo, but since we was very weak right now and Kiibo was very heavy it had little affect. But he had to attempt to salvage at least _some_ dignity. “Kiibo, stop! You have GOT to ask first!”

Kiibo snapped back immediately, looking shocked. Shuichi rarely raised his voice in such a manner. He was very surprised. But he'd been doing this all night, why was there an issue now? “What's wrong?”

Shuichi was clutching a hand to his chest, over his heart, with his eyes wide but looking down. He took a few calming breaths before looking up again. “Y-you can't just go around putting your face on people! Just… use your hand next time, please.”

“But my face is the most sensitive part of my body.” Kiibo tilted his head. “I can't check your temperature without using my face. The Professor never seemed to mind when he was sick.”

“Family is different,” Shuichi sighed.

Kiibo stopped, cutting off his own reply. He looked like he was considering something, then he frowned. “Is it weird?”

“Well, it's not exactly… common,” Shuichi chose his words carefully. “The most sensitive parts of people are our hands and uhh, our, umm...” Cough, cough. “Yeah. So, you understand now?”

There was an unnatural pause as if Kiibo was filing away information before he smiled and nodded. “It's unfortunate we don't have the Ultimate Nurse among us.”

Was that a joke? Shuichi blinked.

“But I’m the only one who doesn't require sleep, so you'll have to make do with me as your nurse!” Kiibo put his hands on his waist and nodded again twice.

At that moment there was a knock at the door which Kiibo jumped up to answer. He was talking quietly to someone so Shuichi bent forward to try and see who it was, but regretted that when the stabbing pain in his head returned. With a wince he gave up and laid back down again. Kiibo hurried back to his bedside.

It was Kaede and Kirumi who had paid a visit. When they entered a nice aroma wafted across to him which certainly got his attention. He hadn't realised how hungry he was until now; puking his guts out all night would have that effect, yes. Kirumi approached his bed with a tray.

“I know it's early yet, but before I begin breakfast preparations I thought I should make you some chicken soup. It may be a simple, classic recipe, but it's guaranteed to improve your health. If you don't wish to eat it right away I’m sure Kiibo can keep it warm.”

“No, no, it's okay. I'm actually starving now! Thank you.” He accepted the soup and lifted his knees up to balance the tray on.

Kaede wagged her finger at him. “How're you feeling, Mr Bedhead?”

“Uh-uhh,” his hands self-consciously rose to pat down his scruffy hair. Kaede smiled. “I'm feeling a bit better now,” he said.

“Good to hear,” Kaede replied. “You scared us half to death when you fainted. I think Kaito was the most scared though.”

“Gghh... this is really good,” Shuichi mumbled with a mouthful of soup, trying to change the subject from that incident. “Did you both make it?”

“Well, I was in the room while Kirumi made it. That counts, right?” Kaede grinned.

“Close enough,” Shuichi chuckled.

“If you wish I can teach you how to prepare the recipe,” Kirumi offered.

“Oh! No, no, no, no,” Kaede shook her head quickly, waving her hands. “I'm good with my instant noodle skills, thanks! I'd hate to put you out of a job.”

“I live to serve,” Kirumi bowed. Though he'd since given up on trying to stop the maid from waiting on him hand-and-foot, Shuichi was still grateful for her service. He suspected that Kaede enjoyed it more so. “If you'll excuse me I have other preparations to see to.”

As she opened the door, Kaede turned back. “Oh, how're you holding up, Kiibo?”

“The situation is 100% under control!”

Kaede laughed. “Good.”

“I hope your condition improves swiftly, Shuichi,” Kirumi bowed again as they left the room.

When the door closed Kaede put a hand to her mouth, speaking quietly as if they could still be heard through the walls. “I didn't know it was Kiibo who's looking after him. I thought it was Kaito!”

Kirumi tilted her head back slightly. About as close as she would get to an actual eye-roll. “If I recall, Kaito created some convoluted story to avoid helping. I believe he's actually just squeamish about vomit. So Kiibo volunteered.”

Kaede was nodding through her speech. “RIP Shuichi, I’ll perform the _Marche Funebre_ at your service.”

Kirumi hid a smirk.

It felt like the soup was already having a positive effect as Shuichi ate. It was a smooth, murky broth, perfectly warm and a delight on his sore throat. Not that he expected much less from the Ultimate Maid. He tried his best to ignore Kiibo watching him. Though the robot always watched people eat, it was a little more awkward when it was just him. He discreetly glanced over to notice that Kiibo was actually staring intently at the soup this time, with a vague frown on his face.

Kiibo could already notice that Shuichi's complexion was improving dramatically. A healthy colour had returned to his cheeks and his forehead wasn't quite so sweaty, and even his eyes looked like they had more alertness to them now. But he had a weird feeling inside, a feeling that was involuntary and unwelcome. Like a mix of frustration and anger when he looked at the soup, but why would he be angry that Shuichi was getting better? He cared deeply for the detective, surely it was illogical to feel contrary to that in this moment. It was a similar feeling to back when he was home and the Professor would ignore him in favour of a different (less advanced) robot project. Only this time the feeling was much more intense…

There was a beep and Kiibo covered his mouth reflexively.

“What was that?” Shuichi looked up.

“Sorry?”

“That noise.”

Kiibo moved his hands down to stiffly rest on his knees. “W-what noise? I didn't hear anything...”

It had been a recent development, but Kiibo had begun to learn how to effectively lie. It was actually still obvious when he was trying but it was definitely something that was happening. Now was one of those times, so Shuichi put on his 'no nonsense' face. Even when tired it had the intended effect as Kiibo was avoiding eye contact now.

“You just beeped.”

“D-d-did I? I don't think so.”

Shuichi put down his spoon. “Kiibo, are you recording me?”

Another pause as Kiibo considered his options. He hung his head. “Yes.”

The beep was an involuntary hourly reminder that he was using a higher than normal charge while recording for so long.

Shuichi's whole body jerked uselessly as he threw his arms out, caring little for the delicious soup now. “Why would you record this!? Kiibo, that Is NOT acceptable! Seriously!”

“I've been recording everything so far.”

“WHAT!? Are you still recording right now!?”

Oh, Shuichi was angry now. His face was red and sweaty again. Apparently he had crossed some personal boundary once more. The professor sometimes told him that recording things to better learn from them was considered cheating, and that humans didn't have that luxury when trying to learn. He was okay with cheating sometimes if it meant he could learn to fit into society quicker. Apparently he should've heeded his creator's words in this instance.

But Shuichi was watching him and waiting for an answer. He couldn't stop his shoulders from slumping to match his lowered head. “Y-yes...” he admitted.

Shuichi made a strangled noise as if in his panic and embarrassment he couldn't get the correct words out. “Kiibo, stop! Stop recording right now! I—urghh…!”

He clenched his eyes and teeth as the stabbing pain in his head attacked tenfold. Psychedelic blobs of bright colours flashed behind his closed eyes as he squeezed his head at the temples. He didn't even notice he'd fallen back into bed until he heard Kiibo's panicked voice, tinny with a distance that didn't actually exist.

“Ahhh, Shuichi! I'm sorry! I'm sorry for recording you!!”

Then he passed out again. But only for a short time. Maybe twenty seconds. He came to looking directly up into Kiibo's face, whose eyes were wobbling in a manner that could be considered crying in a normal person. He looks quite scared. When he realised that Shuichi was awake again he rushed to pass him another glass of water; probably trying to do something, anything, productive now. Shuichi accepted it anyway. It did help with his thumping head somewhat.

He sat up again and before he could say anything Kiibo apologised again. He didn't accept the apology yet, but instead asked why Kiibo would even be recording him in the first place.

“I thought I could review the footage later and grow from this experience,” Kiibo explained with a suitably shameful expression.

“Not at my expense, Kiibo. Please delete that.”

“O-okay, I'm sorry, Shuichi.”

“Thank you.” Now that he'd calmed down he was starting to feel somewhat guilty for shouting like that and scaring Kiibo. People often told him he was too soft-hearted for his own good and they were certainly correct. He decided to try and lighten the mood again. “How do you know how to care for people properly anyway?” He was actually quite impressed that someone with limited human social interaction knew what supplies would be required.

“Well,” Kiibo pointed upwards with a finger as if he were giving a lecture. “Of course I have studied human health at length! My creator would often work consecutive nights with no sleep. It was very irresponsible. So it became my responsibility to provide adequate care when he became ill.” And now he looked sheepish, twiddling his fingers. “Um, I learnt what not to do with practise...”

Shuichi resisted the urge to facepalm. The empty bowl of soup in his lap had cooled and now he realised how cold his hands felt. Maybe it was the illness, or maybe it was because of the terrible circulation he'd had since childhood, but his fingertips were freezing. He curled his fingers into fists and pushed them into the bed quilt. His ever vigilant nurse noticed this with curious eyes.

“I can do that,” Kiibo declared after a moment. He moved the soup bowl out of the way perhaps a bit too roughly. “May I hold your hands?”

“Uhh-um. Sure.” Shuichi wondered where this was going.

Kiibo took both his hands and sandwiched them between his own gently. A muscle in Shuichi's cheek started twitching involuntarily as his face started burning, looking down at their joint hands. Kiibo was also focused on their hands, but he looked like he was concentrating much harder. Gradually a warmth began to radiate from the robot's hands and spread into his own. He wriggled his fingers as feeling came back into them. He also realised he was smiling like an idiot.

It was nice.

By evening Shuichi was feeling much better. Well enough to join the group for their evening meal. As usual Kirumi had prepared a much larger-than-needed feast, not that anyone or even the maid herself complained about that. Shuichi still felt far too embarrassed to sit near Kaito, so he sat with Kiibo and Kaede on either side of him. He did manage to send Kaito an apologetic look however, which was received with a wobbly thumbs-up.

“You really do look so much better, Shuichi,” Kaede was saying with a cunning shine in her eyes. A look that never failed to make Shuichi nervous. “I guess it's because Kiibo makes such a good nurse.”

“Yes, I suppose so. You're very kind, Kaede!” Kiibo agreed.

“Maybe if I get sick you can look after me too,” Kaede suggested. She grinned slyly when Shuichi began making discreet cutting motions to his own neck with his hand.

Then he paused. “Wait a minute. Who undressed me?”

Sometime even later that evening after a fun time spent together as a group everyone had retired for the night. Kiibo sat on the floor of his room plugged into the outlet to recover the charge he'd used when recording Shuichi. The room was dark, with only his eyes and the diagnostics of his collar producing any light. He sat with his legs pulled up to his chest and his chin resting on his knees. Images were flashing at the backs of his eyes, and sounds to his internal speakers, giving no indication of what he was watching to anyone outside of his own head.

“ _Kiiiiibo.”_

He felt bad for lying to Shuichi about deleting the footage. _Sorry, that's not how it works. These are my memories now._ Able to be pulled up and re-experienced with perfect clarity.

And watching Shuichi say those things made him feel good.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not quite so happy with how this one turned out. The POV was bouncing all over the place. But I’m already writing the sequel, so this needed to be posted! Hopefully you enjoyed it anyway.


End file.
